


Just closed eyes with nothing behind

by otatop



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Allison makes a shitty comment off screen, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Demisexuality, Identity Issues, M/M, Neil Learns Catharsis, Nicky tries to be who Neil needs him to be, Sexual Identity, please read the note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-04-24 10:19:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19171294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otatop/pseuds/otatop
Summary: Sometimes, things happen first and anxiety follows. Other times, anxiety happens first and your brain tries to fill in the blanks of your memory. On bad days, it all happens at once.Neil has a bad day and struggles with his sense of self.Updated with Andrew's POV





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello anxiety presents differently for all and so does coping and I sure did project here. Neil experiences some illogical thought patterns because of it and struggles with accepting his sexuality after a comment remembered from a conversation that happens off-screen. This comment does not reflect how I feel about Allison but I do think people often make remarks that they don't really think about. 
> 
> Title from Empty Pages by Averi which lyrically is the backdrop of this song and musically is a little jazzy for our poor boy.

“There you are.”

He didn’t know he wanted to be found until Nicky peaked into the court lounge. He didn’t know he wanted Nicky to the the one to find him until his jaw started to tremble with relief. 

“Hey,” was all Nicky said as he lowered himself to sit next to Neil on the floor behind the couch. “Renee told me what Allison said.”

Ah, so that explained why he’d been looking for Neil in the first place. Neil's hands tightened around the tube of paper in his hands. It was soft and pliable, almost cloth-like from how many times it had been rolled and folded and flattened. “It’s fine,” he said. “You didn’t have to come look for me.”

“Yes, I did,” Nicky countered.

Neil let out a shaky sigh and wished that Allison’s words were all that had gotten to him. That it wasn’t issue upon issue on a bad day. That Andrew hadn’t been a part of it. That there hadn’t been a one-two punch and a sickening realization. 

_ “That’s not a real word, sweety.” _ One.  
_ “It explains how I feel. My feelings- my relationship with Andrew…”  
“What relationship.” _ Two

Issues on issues on a bad day. Neil didn’t cry with tears anymore but the rest of his body remembered the motions of wringing him like a towel- chest squeezing, jaw shaking, arms stiff. He twisted his hands around the rolled paper. It was so mangled it no longer even crinkled.

After a few moments of silence, Nicky slowly,  _ slowly _ reached over and took the paper. Neil let him and didn’t understand why. It was a private, personal thing.

Maybe that  _ was _ why.

  1. Neil Abram Josten
  2. Fox
  3. Exy player
  4. ~~Aubor Aubar Aborn Brown Red~~ Reddish brown hair
  5. ~~Boyfriend~~
  6. Math major
  7. ~~Demisexual~~



Nicky looked at the paper for a long time and Neil looked up at the pictures tacked to the wall. Time and growth stopped Nicky from smothering Neil but it was still Nicky and his face betrayed every emotion. His brows wrinkled, his eyes squinted and then widened. His face went slack and then smoothed over and that was a new one to see.

“There’s a lot to unpack here,” he finally said, voice quiet and soothing. Neil felt his face go hot.

“Alright, Bee,” he said, aiming for biting and failing. Nicky didn’t look offended, just blank. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“The first thing I want you to know is that your sexuality is real and nobody gets to tell you that it’s not or that  _ you’re  _ not or that it’s wrong. It’s really important to me that you know that.” He turned his head to meet Neil’s eyes for the first time. Neil only nodded because he didn’t know what else to do. It didn’t feel appropriate to tell Nicky that that made it worse and he’d been trying to be more appropriate after too many awkward silences at team dinners and movie nights. 

Nicky nodded back. “I’ll be honest, though- I don’t really know exactly what the word means. Could you tell me?”

The way Nicky was speaking was so unlike himself. He was measured and scripted and Neil wondered if he heard these things in Germany or Reddin. Neil didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to say it again and be told it wasn’t real ( _ Nicky would never _ …) and he didn’t want to face the reality of his situation. He wanted to sit behind the couch and look at the faces of the foxes frozen in time. And he did, for a little while. Nicky did, too. Patient. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight.

“It, uh, it means that I only experience sexual attraction after I’ve developed a strong emotional connection with someone.”

It felt like a confession. Part of him wanted to elaborate and make this connection with Nicky, but then he started to think about Andrew and his cheeks hurt and his hands clenched. It seemed to be enough for Nicky, who bumped their shoulders together. 

“Thanks for sharing that with me. And not that anyone’s opinion on it matters, but I think that sounds exactly right for you.”

“Your opinion matters,” Neil said. His throat felt tight around the words, started to hurt. They sat in silence again as Neil tried to control his breathing. Eventually, Nicky’s thumb rubbed over the crossed off number 5 on the crinkled list. He braced himself. 

“Something else happened,” Nicky guessed. “Allison makes catty comments all the time. Something she said wouldn’t make you feel like this.”

Neil didn’t ask how Nicky knew what he was feeling because he was right.

“Andrew said something.” It wasn’t a question because Nicky didn’t have to ask. Neil shook his head at himself and wiped at his dry cheeks as if he actually shed tears.

“He wasn’t wrong. It’s my fault for not listening when he said we weren’t a  _ this _ .” He hated what he was feeling. He hated that he  _ was _ feeling and all the complicated implications that followed along. He hated that it hurt and why it hurt and he hated himself for not being able to suppress these emotions anymore. That was one thing about being real that he didn’t need. Without the distraction of running and fighting for his life, emotions were something he felt much more often and- worse yet- more strongly. 

“What? Why on Earth would Andrew say you’re not together?” Nicky momentarily forgot the calm demeanor he’d been trying to present and gave Neil a bewildered look. Neil felt his lip curl over his teeth.

“Because we’re  _ not _ . He’s  _ always _ said we weren’t a this. You need two people who  _ want _ to be in a relationship to actually have one and it’s always just been  _ me _ and I wasn’t supposed to  _ do this _ . Mom was  _ right _ -”

He stopped. He brought up his knees and dug his fingertips into the sides of his mouth to keep his lips from pulling into an anguished snarl. He felt raw and ugly with vulnerability- consumed with both the desire to keep himself secret and safe and the desperation to be known.

Everyone always got twice as interested and equally up in arms when he mentioned his mother. This time was no different. Nicky was putting in a valiant effort to be a presence Neil would allow close. He didn’t go in for a hug but his body betrayed his desire to. Neil was grateful that he didn't. Hew as feeling  _ too much _ and his skin felt over sensitive like a fever, like every hair on his body was raised. 

Issues on issues. Layers of problems and a broken psyche and a racing mind that was puzzling together the memory of February in a picture that suited it’s anxious needs. Was it Allison’s comment or Nicky’s assurance? Was it Andrew’s dismissal of his feelings or was it the betrayal his feelings indicated? Was it his mother’s hands ripping out his hair or the fear that she’d been right?

His body seized again, desperate to squeeze  _ something _ out of him. Tears would have been best but instead it was air. He gasped and choked and held his breath in a vain attempt to hold himself together.

“I’m just having a really bad day,” he choked out, to reassure either himself or Nicky that this would all pass eventually. Nicky didn’t hug him but he did put a hand on Neil’s knee. He was less sure of himself but next to Neil’s breakdown he was the epitome of composed. 

“I- I think you really need to get all this out, Neil. Do you want me to call Bee?”

“ _ No _ .”

“I could call Andrew, he’s hom-”

Neil let out a broken noise to cut off that idea. That small part of him desperate to be known recognized that he  _ did _ want to talk. But he didn’t trust Betsy around him and he didn’t trust himself around Andrew. 

“I was- I was so excited to have this word for my list because I knew there must be one- I couldn’t be the only person like this. And it hurt when Allison said it was fake because it was like she was saying  _ I _ was fake. And… and then Andrew- it wasn’t the first time he’d said that. It’s my own fault for not remembering and then- and then I realized that Andrew probably only agreed to what we do because there were no feelings and he’s always said- but if I can only do… what we do  _ after _ I have feelings then that means I’ve been lying- I’ve been  _ tricking _ him. We’ve- we’ve done- and I- I realized I  _ can’t win _ . Either Allison was right and I’m back to square one of being a nothing or she’s wrong and I’ve been tricking Andrew and lying to him  _ this whole time _ . And mom always said that feelings and relationships were bad and dangerous and it hurts so much because I think she was  _ right _ .”

Neil inhaled, long and shaking and deep. His face was hot and he felt just as embarrassed as he did relieved to take this- this box and put it outside of himself for someone else to rifle through. Then a new wave of fear hit him because Nicky was Andrew’s  _ family  _ and he’d just admitted to something terrible. He whipped his head to stare at Nicky, eyes wide and burning and finally, finally close to tears. He didn’t understand the expression he was facing.

“Nick, I- I never meant- I’m so- I promise I- I’m  _ sorry _ .”

“Do  _ not _ apologize,” Nicky said fiercely. Neil seized up in fear even as Nicky gave in and gathered him up in his arms. “I am  _ so _ sorry you’re going through this, Neil. Nobody deserves that. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I lied to Andrew so that we could be together,” he moaned into Nicky’s shoulder.

“I trust Andrew enough to never allow himself to be taken advantage of ever again. You might have said no feelings back in February but given that you were going to  _ die _ and were completely oblivious, I don’t think Andrew has been under any assumption that what you to have now is anything but real and honest. And don’t forget that I’ve looked after them since high school. I see how he is with you, how he looks at you.”

“Don’t say that.”

Would it be worse? If Andrew returned his feelings and still said they were nothing? He didn't know. He was too fried. Finally, finally, numbness began to take over. He bundled all of his emotions up and tucked them neatly back into the box. Sharing had made it lighter. Maybe there was something to it after all. Catharsis, his mind supplied. God, he was exhausted. That, at least, was an easy thing to hide. He pulled away from Nicky’s embrace and cleared his throat.

“Thanks for listening, Nicky. I’m gonna head out.”

“Neil-”

Neil didn’t give him the chance. He shot to his feet, pretended his vision didn’t white out, and strode out of the lounge with another thanks thrown over his shoulder. Down the hall, out the side door. His eyes felt puffy and itchy. Must be a ragweed allergy or something. 

He made it to the roof of Fox Tower after a circuitous route around campus. He could recall every step of the way but he had no idea how long he sat up there. The sun was only just starting to set but it wasn’t a great time marker considering he didn’t know when he’d left the court. He still felt drained, physically as well as mentally. Was that normal? Why would people willingly allow themselves to go through things like that?

The quiet was nice. Helpful. Of course, that meant it couldn’t last. He heard raised voices from an open window below and was annoyed until he realized it was just one voice. One familiar voice. One voice loud enough to be articulate and two voices too low, only loud enough to be indistinct murmurs. 

“- _ and you will sit your butts there until i’m through with you _ .”

It sounded like Nicky was scolding a child. Neil privately hoped it was Aaron for the amusement of it.

“ _ -should be ashamed… high order for people like… how fucking… Neil was… _ ”

Hold up. That was his name. Neil sat forward to listen to more actively. He could guess what was happening and the embarrassment was burning. 

“ _ -obviously...I don’t care… And if you can’t do that… Now…. misery, because he’s really fucking... _ ”

_ Murmur, murmur _

_ “Don’t even get me started… where do you get off telling someone… can’t even admit you want to date Renee… last person to make those decisions…” _

_ Murmur murmur _

_ Slame _

_ Murmur _

_ Murmur _

Neil jolted a little when he realized how far over he’d been leaning as he tried to hear what else was being said. Pathetic. He already knew everything that could be said, there was no use eavesdropping. Nicky might feel like he occasionally had some sort of authority over the twins but it was all just an act on both sides. He would front at parenting and sometimes Andrew would let him. It was how the expressed affection. Some might call it the bare minimum, Neil thought it was nice. 

The sky started to turn orange and then bright pink and then dark purple. He liked it. It was peaceful and quiet just like he was feeling now. His thoughts and memories seemed clearer but he pushed those aside and took a deep breath and held it as he imagined taping up boxes and setting them up in piles in an attic. Tomorrow was Saturday. Practice in the morning. Practice in the afternoon. There was an Exy game next Friday against a team with a strong defensive line. 

“I can tell by your face that you’re thinking about Exy. It’s nauseating.”

Neil was surprised but his body didn’t react so he pretended that he’d heard Andrew coming. He stared straight ahead as the trees became silhouettes against the darkening sky and bugs started swarming around the street lamps. Andrew sat next to him, lit up a cigarette, and joined in the silence.

When the sky was fully dark and the stars were trying to come out, Andrew pulled out a piece of paper that had been folded twice into a square. Neil didn’t need to look closely to know what it was. Embarrassment and anxiety flared up inside of him but he quickly boxed it up with everything else.

“Did you read it?” He asked as he reached over and took the list, careful not to touch.

“Nicky told me what it was.”

_ Nicky needs to mind his own business _ , he thought and then immediately felt guilty- Nicky had been exactly who Neil had needed early. Then, he felt frustrated for feeling guilty. Then he felt nothing. Neil picked up the lighter Andrew had placed between them and lit the corner of the paper. It took longer than it should, the paper soft and coated from all the constant handling. When it caught, he held it until the last possible second. It felt appropriate. It felt like California. It felt like nothingness. He was nothing again. They were nothing. 

“Care to explain your disappearing act and why Nicky thought it was his job to chew me out for it?”

No, he didn’t actually. He was finally feeling clear-headed and was able to see how some of his thoughts hadn’t been logical and he didn’t want to start opening the boxes and go through it all again. Because not everything had been illogical and justified or not, he didn’t want any part of it anymore. 

“I was just having a bad day,” he explained away, hoping it was a good enough answer. And might have gotten away with it if Andrew didn’t have a small pile of black ash between them to prod at. 

“Burning yourself up is an awfully rabbit thing to do for just a bad day.”

“The list wasn't me. It was stupid. I had a bad day and now it’s fine.”  _ Drop it _ he almost said. (He didn’t know why he stopped himself short.)

“A bad day doesn’t send you crying in a corner instead of the court.”

He hadn’t  _ cried _ , Neil wanted to say but he felt doing so would come across as defensive. Instead, he snapped, “I said  _ it’s fine _ ,” and willed himself not to start shaking again. 

“Just because your new thing is saying  _ it’s _ instead of  _ I’m _ doesn’t make you any less of a liar.”

A liar. A runner. A fool. A nothing. The boxes were cracking open and Neil tried desperately to tape them back up. He felt his breath speed up without his permission and couldn’t will it to slow back down.

“Why are you  _ pushing _ ,” he ground out, because Andrew was an instigator, not a pusher. He stopped when he was told and- Neil realized a second too late that he hadn’t actually said  _ no _ or  _ stop _ or  _ don’t _ .

“Why are you avoiding the question?”

“I’m  _ not _ . I had a bad day, okay? Is that allowed? Do I need your fucking permission or something?” It was happening again. His cheeks hurt and his throat was closing. His fists shook so he shoved them under his thighs. He closed his eyes and looked for a bigger, stronger box. He couldn’t find one. 

“A bad day is a stubbed toe not a nervous breakdown.”

“Shut  _ up _ ,” Neil finally burst loudly. “What do you want from me?” He kept his eyes closed, squeezed shut like blindness could encompass more than just his sight.

“I want the truth.”

“I gave it to you.”

“You gave me a flimsy excuse.”

“Don’t ask for the truth if you’re just going to dilute it.”

Opening his eyes wasn’t necessary to know that Andrew recalled those words. It was probably unfair of him to try and derail the conversation with that memory but he didn’t care. It gave him a moment of peace to try and get himself back under control. He counted to measure his breaths and focused on the sensation of the cool fall air in his nose and the smell of the browning leaves and the brush of the breeze in his hair. FIve seconds in, hold for three, five seconds out. Thirteen second cycles. Twelve breaths. Two minutes and thirty six seconds before Andrew took the thirteenth breath with him and spoke again.

“Trying to convince yourself something is the truth does not make it so,” he said in a soft, even tone. It was only the contrast that made Neil realize the bite and frustration of before. He’d been so caught up in himself that he’d missed it.

“You seem to already know this  _ truth _ you’re looking for so why don’t you tell me since I’m apparently too stupid to figure it out on my own.”

Andrew’s frustrated sigh was barely audible over the ruffling leaves and passing pedestrians. “Look at me.” Neil kept his eyes closed. “Neil. Look at me.” Neil kept his eyes closed. The concrete was hurting his knuckles. “You don’t need to have a bad day to excuse your feelings. You’re allowed to just  _ have _ them.” 

“What feelings.” A split second, he heard his own tone echoing from hours ago.  _ What relationship _ . 

“I don’t  _ know _ because you won’t fucking tell me.”

“God, you’re being so fucking  _ annoying _ , Andrew.” Annoyance was easy and so was talking as long as he kept his eyes shut. “What do you want to hear? That I feel like  _ shit _ ? That I’ve been sleeping with a dumb list under my pillow trying to figure out who I fucking am? That I’m either nothing or a lying asshole who can’t spell  _ auburn _ ? That I’ve been trying all day to  _ stop  _ feeling like this and it was  _ working _ -” 

“You can’t stop yourself from  _ feeling _ .”

Oh, that was  _ rich _ coming from Andrew. “Why not?” he bit out. 

“Because you’re not a sociopath.”

“Neither are you.”

Andrew’s entire person was focused on feeling and wanting nothing. He didn’t have monopoly over numbness and Neil didn’t understand why Andrew was trying so hard to force this.

That was a lie. Yes he did. He just didn’t want to because letting it happen meant the hurt would continue.

“You’re allowed to feel like shit,” Andrew said.

“Thanks for your permission.”

“Why do you feel like shit?”

“Because I’m having a bad day.”

“ _ Dammit, Neil _ ,” Andrew growled out. Neil felt his lip curl into a snarl. He squeezed his eyes tighter.

“What the fuck do you think a bad day is? I woke up feeling like shit and then shit things happened and I felt like worse shit. I’d say that’s a bad day. Sorry it’s not up to your standards of what counts but hey, I wasn’t stabbed or tortured so I can’t complain, I guess.”

“What shit things happened,” Andrew pressed.

“Shit like I woke up sad. Shit like people important to me telling me that things that are important to me aren’t real. Shit like my scars  _ hurt _ . Shit like my mom being right. Shit like I don’t know what about me  _ is _ real because it’s all lies and fire. Shit like I can’t- I can’t  _ stop _ .”

His breathing was speeding up again. His throat hurt. His hands under his thighs hurt. 

“Open your eyes, Neil.” 

“No.”

“Why not.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not.”

“Because I think I might do something bad if I do.”

“You won’t do anything bad.”

“Yes I will.”

A huff. “What you will do when you open your eyes will not be a bad thing,” Andrew rephrased. Neil’s jaw trembled and he couldn’t say anything past the tightness of his throat. He opened his eyes. 

“Neil. Look at me,” Andrew said for the second time that night. Neil turned his head and looked but didn’t see. His vision was watery and distorted as tears gathered and fell. Andrew didn’t reach out to brush them away but he did tug one of Neil’s hands free and massaged the memory of concrete out of the scars on his shaking knuckles. It felt like a bad thing to cry and then it didn’t.

They were silent for a while as Neil cried and Andrew held his hand. Eventually, Andrew pulled out a blank piece of paper and a pen from his back pocket. He used his thigh as a table to write  _ Neil Abram Josten _ at the top and then a 1 beneath it.

“Shouldn’t that  _ be _ number one?” Neil asked. 

“Your name is just a handful of letters you picked out of a magazine at a Wawa- it has nothing to do with who you actually are.”

“I don’t know what else there is.”

His vision has cleared enough that Neil could see the ring of gold around Andrew’s eyes this close. 

“There’s enough,” Andrew said and it almost sounded like a confession. Next to the 1 he wrote  _ Fox _ .

“You said you didn’t read it,” Neil accused.

“I didn’t say that,” Andrew replied and wrote 2.  _ Top Exy Player _ .

“You think I’m one of the best Exy players?” Neil asked because he had to.

“It doesn’t say that.”

“...you think I’m a  _ top _ ?” Neil asked because he had to. Andrew’s mouth twitched and it was the lightest Neil had felt all day.

Andrew wrote a number 3 but didn’t put his hair color, the same way he hadn’t counted his name. 

“It gets hard,” Neil offered. “I tried to think of how I am and I couldn’t think of anything. What about… what do you think- I don’t know, my most defining character traits? I’m really fast, too. And don’t forget math.”

“Being a math nerd isn’t a character trait, it’s a flaw,” Andrew snarked and wrote  _ Hothead, Loudmouth, Instigator _ . Neil snorted and sniffled.

“Tell me how you really feel,” he joked. “What about my  _ best _ traits?” Maybe he was fishing but a compliment wouldn’t make him feel  _ worse. _

“Those  _ are _ your best traits.”

“They sound like annoyances.”

“They are.”

“You like them.” Neil teased.

“They are  _ literally _ the only reason we’re dating.”

He said it so straightforward, so blandly, like he had no idea the turmoil he’d just sent Neil into. He kept going on to write  _ 4\. Boyfriend, 5. Math NERD, 6. Demisexual _ . Neils entire body was tensing back up.

“You can’t write that,” he said. Andrew wrote 7 but didn’t fill it in.

“Allison doesn’t get to decide that for you,” he replied like he really had no idea. 

“No you can’t- number four.” Andrew’s eyes shot up to his, blanker than ever. “That- you can’t say that just because I- it doesn’t work if it’s just one sided. That’s not…”

Andrew stared at Neil for what felt like a very long time and for the first time in months, Neil had no idea what he was thinking. Then, he raised the pen back up to number 4 and Neil couldn’t breathe when his heart clenched at the thought of Andrew crossing that word out.

But then he underlined it. 

  1. _Boyfriend_



Logically, Neil understood, but he was not having a very logical day.

“I have feelings for you,” he said dumbly.

“Yeah,” Andrew replied in a tone that supported that idiocy. 

“But you said…”

“Forget what I said.”

“You won’t.”

“No. I won’t. So forget it enough for the both of us. Number seven, dumbass. Number eight, pain in the ass.” He wasn’t writing any of this. “Number nine…”

“Two in a row. Something on your mind? Maybe we should put that down as my best feature.” Neil teased because he could. He didn’t feel 100% but the reassurance was beginning to settle his blood pressure. Andrew wrote  _ Fucker _ next to the 7 and Neil almost laughed as he made a grab for the pen. Andrew held it up and away at an angle Neil could easily reach if he pressed against Andrew’s side. As he moved in for it, Andrew snaked his free arm around Neil’s waist and tugged.

“I have them, too,” Andrew said.

“Yeah,” Neil replied. 

He felt better but only by comparison. He still felt sad and his scars still hurt but he tucked his face into Andrew’s neck and breathed without counting. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrews POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone commented saying it would be interesting to see Andrew's POV of the first part and I, a ding dong, said oh haha yea probably not maybe just some bullet blog post or something. And then I, an established ding dong, wrote 5,775 words about it. 1,377 words longer than the original. Oops

He had a headache. 

It wasn’t unusual for that to happen when he was trying to work but it was inconvenient. Hyperthymesia itself was an inconvenience. Hyperthymesia and an eidetic memory were a curse. Today was Friday, November 16th and the only blessing was that this date had not fallen on this day of the week as long as he’d been alive. It was, however, a date filled with memories that related too closely to this week’s subject in CRIM346. Which made it hard to actually read the words in front of him. And thing thing about an eidetic memory? You had to actually read the shit to remember it. 

Andrew had attempted to read the same paragraph three times without actually absorbing any of the material when the dorm door opened and Neil came in. With Allison in toe. Great. At least Renee was there and she knew he was trying to read before his afternoon class. Maybe she could keep their noise to a minimum. 

And she did, for a while. Andrew was able to finish the page through his intrusive memories of a rainy day. 

But, alas, the bedroom door was open and closing it meant moving. And moving meant looking away from the textbook. And doing that meant giving up for the day, probably. Neil came into the room with a comment over his shoulder that he didn’t pay attention to. He did, however, glance up when Neil stretched up to rummage around on his bed without using the ladder. It wasn’t so much the shirt rising up but the gray cotton gym shorts straining against the backs of his thighs. 

Reading. Reading reading reading. Rea-ding. 

“...I found it today.”

Readiiiinnnnnggg.

“You’re gay, I don’t know why you’re making such a thing about it.”

“Allison…”

Reading. Headache reading. Rainy November 16th on Chestnut street. Kids on bikes. Peanut butter and strawberry jam on wonder bread. Reading reading. 

“I’m not gay, I’ve told you that. No listen- it’s called demisexual.”

Readingreadingreadingreadingreadingheadache

A snort. “That’s not a real word, sweety.”

“It explains how I feel. My feelings- my relationship with Andrew…”

Headache.

“What relationship.” Andrew finally bit out in frustration. God, at this rate he wasn’t going to get any of the reading done and this class was too involved and discussion based to get away without it.

(“ _ Ha _ . I knew it.” Allison crooned something about collecting a debt)

He almost missed the bigger lectures of freshman and sophomore year. Crowded but anonymous and he could get the work done on his own time. 

At a certain point, he had to close the book. The text was a trigger and an avoidance tactic all at once and both of those things were doing more harm than good right now. His head was killing him so he sat up at his desk, closed his eyes, and let the memory happen. 

 

He didn’t pay attention to how long it took to go through it and move on. He didn’t care. When he felt ready, Andrew took his book to the tutoring center and found the junior who thought he had severe dyslexia. She wasn’t with anyone now so he tossed the book down in front of her and sat in the hard wooden chairs. 

“Chapter 8.” He said. The girl had her hands frozen in a hovering position as if surprised, but after a few seconds her brain caught up with the events and she smiled at him as she opened the book. She didn’t greet him because by now she knew he wouldn’t return the gesture. She just opened the book and started reading out loud. 

This wasn’t Andrew’s preferred method of intaking information, and he had to actually pay attention to make sure he was retaining it, but some days he couldn’t get past the headache and didn’t have the luxury of time. The girl didn’t ask, just read. 

She finished in time for Andrew to go to his only Friday class. Thank fuck he’d bit the bullet and gone because he’d actually needed that chapter for class. Hearing the TA and his classmates discuss it from other perspectives helped soothe his racing thoughts from before but he didn’t feel up for contributing that day. His participation grade could take the hit when it came time for work and exams. Whatever. 

On the way back to the dorm he grabbed whatever would fit in his bag from the athlete dining hall. A sandwich to split with Neil, an apple, and a yogurt cup. He nearly grabbed Renee from the salad bar as well but turned on his heel when he saw that she was talking with Nicky- his headache had only just left.

Neil wasn’t back from class yet so Andrew spent his time ripping up his half of the sandwich and slurping at the yogurt. When it became apparent that Neil wasn’t going to be showing up for lunch he rolled his eyes at the empty room. They’d had an early gym session that day but the junkie was probably back at the court because gym time wasn’t enough to fulfill his obsession. 

Nap time, it was. 

Peace was but a momentary thing. Andrew jerked awake at the soft knock on the bedroom door. He knew it was Nicky an instant later by the insufferable awkward pause from the living room. 

“Andrew?”

“What.”

“Have you seen Neil?” 

A sigh. “Have you checked the court?”

“Kevin said Neil wasn’t there but I’m going to check next. Just wanted to see if he was here before I made the trek.”

Andrew felt his brows crease and then internalized it. A flash of a memory came back, Neil’s not at the court, he’s not with Andrew, he’s not with anyone, he’s not anywhere. He didn’t let this memory overtake him like the one had that morning and worked through his list of logical reasons Neil would not go missing again. 

“Keys are on the counter,” was all he offered. If Nicky wanted to find Neil he could be the one to look for him. Andrew was tired and Neil was safe somewhere on campus. He heard the dorm door open and close and fell back asleep. 

Hunger woke him next so he tore up the other half of the sandwich and snacked while he paged through his notes to find where he had left off on an essay. It was easier than the morning had been, his memory a help more than a hindrance now that he no longer had a headache and was able to recall the articles he needed to cite. APA could suck it. 

Kevin came back when Andrew was brushing the crumbs from his shirt to the carpet. He paused when he saw Andrew, looked over his shoulder, then closed the dorm door with a look of confusion.

“I thought you were at the court,” he said in a way that sounded like he was accusing Andrew of something. 

“I’m Aaron,” Andrew said. Kevin paused again to stare and then flipped him off no his way to the kitchen.

“Your car was there when I was leaving,” he called with his head in the fridge. There was no question so Andrew didn’t answer. They went about their business in relative silence, Kevin settling in with a textbook and Andrew attempting to get his essay up to 10 pages. 

The sun was setting when he was bothered again, this time by Nicky  _ and  _ Allison. Peachy. Though, Allison didn’t look all that willing to be there by her face and Nicky’s hand around her wrist. Mildly interesting, mostly a nuisance. 

“You. Bedroom. Now.” Nicky said in a tone nearly forgotten. Even Kevin looked almost ready to obey. Nicky dragged Allison into the bedroom, sat her on the edge of Kevin’s bed, and waited. Andrew could vividly recall every time Nicky would get like this when he and Aaron were in high school. It went quicker when you played along so Andrew heaved himself up from the beanbag, into the bedroom, and closed the door behind him (Kevin was nosy and being left out would annoy him). 

Nicky pointed to Andrew’s own bed with a firm finger and looked Andrew straight in the eye. So it was gonna be like that, yea? He stood there, just stubborn. Almost as stubborn. Nicky was in mamma bear mode and Andrew was tired. He barely contained his eye roll as he flopped sideways onto his bed, legs hanging off the side and shoulders propped uncomfortable on the wall. 

“I don’t have time for you attitude, Andrew. I have something to say and you will sit your butts there until I’m through with you.” 

“I don’t see why  _ I _ have to be here for this,” Allison said, and funnily enough that was what Andrew was thinking. He’d barely even seen Nicky today. 

“You’re  _ both _ here because you should be ashamed of yourselves. What both of you did was… I mean… It is a high order for people like-” Nicky snapped his clenched fists to his side and let out a frustrated sound. He actually looked properly flustered. “How fucking  _ dare _ you guys say those things today. Do you have any idea how upset Neil was when I found him?”

Hm. Interesting, but not as entertaining. Andrew sat and waited. Allison put out a hand in front of her as if waiting and bobbed her head. Andrew mentally agreed with the sentiment. 

“Are you going to tell us what this is about or do we have to guess? I have shit to do,” Allison said. 

“He likes to be cryptic when he’s reprimanding,” Andrew told her. Nicky rounded on him.

“You want it straight forward? Here. You’re  _ obviously _ in a relationship with Neil. Partners, boyfriends, datemates, I don’t care. Call it what it is. And if you can’t do that, then end whatever you have now and put him out of his misery. Because he’s really fucking miserable.”

Allison was smirking from her side of the room. “Trouble in paradise?”

Nicky spun on his heel. “Don’t even get me started on you. Where do you get off telling someone else that their sexual identity is fake? You dated  _ Seth _ and now you can’t admit to yourself that you want to date Renee. You’re the last person who gets to make those decisions for someone else.”

_ Interesting _ , Andrew’s mind supplied, if only to avoid processing how his own scolding had gone. Allison shot up from the bed and prodded Nicky in the chest with a manicured nail. 

“Fuck you, Hemmick. Not everybody can be all sunshine and rainbows about this shit.”

It was lucky she slammed her way out of the room then because Andrew wasn’t keen on her at the moment. Nicky reacted in kind but outwardly, hands gripping his hair in frustration as he kicked the door with a quiet “ _ fuck _ .” 

“What exactly did you expect to happen here?” Andrew asked. He stood from the bed and stalked in a slow circle toward Nicky and the door. 

“I expected you two to care about Neil and how your actions affect him.” He opened the door and walked into the living room. Andrew followed- things weren’t adding up.

“Allison was a bitch and Neil’s off whining about it. Still unclear why I have to be apart of this.”

“Are you being purposely obtuse?” Nicky shouted. Kevin looked between the two, clearly interested and equally uncomfortable. He stood with his textbook and left without a word. Nicky took it as permission to go on. “Why would you tell Neil that you’re not in a relationship.”

“Because we’re not.” Knee, jerk. The definition of relationship was all encompassing but the way it was being used here was not. He wasn’t defensive about it. 

“Yes, you are,” Nicky said. “You care about each other, you’re important to each other. You’re together all the time, protecting each other, talking, listening. Your lives are so deeply intertwined by  _ choice _ . You choose each other every day and denying something like that would hurt even the most emotionally mature person. And we both know Neil is  _ not _ that.”

Andrew didn’t know what to say to that so he stayed silent and let Nicky think it was callousness. It must have worked, because the thing he gave Andrew next was something savored for a final blow. It was a piece of old, wrinkled paper with Neil’s writing on it, a list numbered one through seven, with numbers five and seven scribbled out hastily.

Number seven made sense when he recalled the cause of his headache earlier. Number five did when he recalled the outcome of his headache earlier. The other numbers were Neil being a desperate fool.

That Nicky had this worn, old thing at all was more telling than anything that could have been written on it. It made Andrew give a sigh of frustration- at Neil, at himself, at the situation.

“Andrew,” Nicky said imploringly. Andrew didn’t look up but he did listen. “Neil is going through some serious shit right now. He’s heartbroken and confused and  _ scared _ . I found him practically out of his mind behind the couch in the lounge and he started talking about how he took advantage of you and about his mom-”

“Stop.” Andrew held up a hand and then looked up from the note. “Advantage of me.”

Nicky knew enough about his cousin to take that for the prompt it was. “He thinks that you are only with him because you want some sort of fucked up friends with benefits situation. And he doesn’t feel sexual attraction until he has a strong emotional connection with someone.”

Andrew could see where Neil’s mind was going with that in the state he was supposedly in. The last ten minutes had really been all about fucking him up, hadn’t they. He took what he had learned and tucked it all up into neat rows to examine later. Now, there was more to deal with.

“Mary,” he said next.  _ Mary Hatford _ . She’d had a slow death, supposedly, and Andrew deeply wished that he could have been around to draw it out even further. 

“Neil said something about- about feelings being bad. I don’t think she let him date much on the run...”

Fuck. Of course. Of course Mary would rear her ugly head on a day like today. Neil could have grown into a real boy all on his own if it weren’t for her poisoning his every thought and motivation. Andrew could only guess at what stupid things Neil was up to now with the dangerous idea that he wasn’t allowed to experience emotions. After everything- after  _ everything _ they had overcome, Andrew did not want Neil be like him.

The weight of it only served to fuel his anger further. 

“I’m not his therapist,” he said. Because that’s what it sounded like Neil needed right now. That’s what it sounded like Neil had needed every day. 

Nicky shook his head in agreement. “No, you’re not. You’re his boyfriend. His mental health isn’t your responsibility or your job to fix but his hurt feelings are your business- especially when some of them are your fault. Just know that he’s really, really scared right now, and I think he could use your brand of cheering up.”

Scared. 

He met Nicky’s eyes with the facade of cool indifference. Nicky knew. 

“Who do we have in life if not ourselves. He feels like he doesn’t even have that today. He’s scared, and lonely, and a little bit heartbroken. Even if- even if you do decide to end it now,” Nicky swallowed around a knot in his throat, “I think I saw his feet hanging off the roof. He could use some company.” 

Andrew walked out with the list, a pen, and a piece of torn notebook paper, not caring that he was doing what was expected of him. He cared about very little at the moment, not much past the paper that he folded up into a neat square. Neil  _ would _ try to do something like that, some sort of pseudo-psycho technique to feel more real. He was obsessed with realism and had no idea how to define it. Neil thought that he was a name but Andrew knew that there was no combination of letters that could encompass all that he was. 

He was the most intelligent idiot Andrew had ever known. He was a social sponge, absorbing the behaviors of those around him off the court in an effort to blend in. He would do advanced calculus problem sets to relax and yet eat shrimp cocktail at a fancy event because it was offered and expected. Neil  _ hated _ shrimp. And he was mildly allergic. But he had done it without the slightest wince because that would stand out. 

Andrew hated him. 

The sun was setting when he got to the roof, dark purple muted by the street lamps below. Neil was, as expected, perched on the edge of the roof with a distant look on his face. His legs were pressed together tight at the knees, ankles methodically rubbing back and forth in what Andrew knew to be an unconscious self-soothing motion. Neil often did that on bad days, a rhythmic touch he would match his breathing to. Andrew was sure he had no idea that he did it.

His hands were resting on his lap, the fingers of his right hand twitching in the air in a way he did when he was tracing plays on an imaginary board. Andrew gave in to a sigh. 

“I can tell by your face that you’re thinking about Exy. It’s nauseating,” he said as he approached. Neil’s ankles and fingers stilled but he gave no other indication of surprise. Andrew dropped his body to the edge next to him and lit up a cigarette. 

They often spent time up here in silence, watching the world and enjoying the company. They didn’t need words. Not usually. Today, they did, and Andrew was going to let Neil’s be the ones they started with. He pulled out the list from his pocket and held it up between them with his index and middle finger. 

Neil gave it a look, burned it, and claimed a bad day. Andrew had very little patience for that and called him out on it. Predictably, getting Neil to talk was like pulling teeth.  _ It’s fine, it’s fine _ , bullshit. Nothing was fine and it showed so plainly on Neil’s face as he stuffed his fists under his thighs to try and hide their quaking. 

“A bad day is a stubbed toe not a nervous breakdown,” Andrew said and he knew he was being dismissive and he knew the stitches of Neil’s seams were stretching too far but he pushed anyway. Neil shouted, Andrew responded, Neil argued, Andrew corrected, Neil quoted, Andrew froze. 

It was a dirty, defensive trick. Neil was one of the few that knew just how truly intrusive his memories could be when they were triggered. He could practically taste the skin turned sweet by water and feel the plastic bags against his neck and hair. Rage surged first, tailed by understanding that tried to tamper down the spike in his blood pressure. He battled the memory and his frustration as he watched Neil, eyes closed, breathes unnaturally measured. He watched the color drain from Neil’s face as he got to nine breaths, ten, eleven, twelve. They took thirteen together. 

“Trying to convince yourself something is the truth does not make it so,” he said carefully. Carefully, carefully. Poke the bear when you’re ready. 

“You seem to already know this  _ truth  _ you’re looking for so why don’t you tell me since I’m apparently too stupid to figure it out on my own,” Neil snarled out. Andrew gave in to the frustrated sigh at the self deprecation. 

“Look at me,” he urged. Neil kept his eyes stubbornly squeezed tight, face forward. “Neil. Look at me.” Still. He would really need to spell this out, wouldn’t he? “You don’t need to have a bad day to excuse your feelings. You’re allowed to just  _ have _ them.”

“What feelings,” Neil said in a tone too even, too emotionless. Andrew hated it. He hated Neil.

“I don’t  _ know _ because you won’t fucking tell me,” he snapped. 

“God, you’re being so fucking  _ annoying _ , Andrew. What do you want to hear? That I feel like  _ shit _ ? That I’ve been sleeping with a dumb list under my pillow trying to figure out who I fucking am? That I’m either nothing or a lying asshole who can’t spell  _ auburn  _ ? That I’ve been trying all day to  _ stop  _ feeling like this and it was  _ working  _ -”

“You can’t stop yourself from  _ feeling _ ,” Andrew interrupted and it felt so at odds with everything he’d done since getting off the meds to force himself to feel  _ anything _ . A humorless voice in the back of his head joked about them meeting in the middle and having normal emotions. 

“Why not?” Neil grumped.

“Because you’re not a sociopath.”

“Neither are you.”

He’d said that once before, that Andrew wasn’t a sociopath. Andrew fingers had been tracing the puckered skin of scars. He never understood why Neil’s brain had jumped to that thought in the moment and he still didn’t. 

“You’re allowed to feel like shit,” he said.

“Thanks for your permission.”

“Why do you feel like shit?”

“Because I’m having a bad day.”

“ _ Dammit, Neil _ .” God, fuck, he was so fucking annoying. So god damn stupid and stubborn and missing the god damn  _ point _ of all this bullshit. He could see that it was affecting Neil, though, in the way his shoulders were crawling up to his ears, in the way his lips were pulling to the sides and his eyes were squeezing tighter and tighter. He was a little dutch boy with a finger in the dam. His voice was tight but it didn’t waver as he ranted at Andrew about  _ shit _ and  _ shit _ and  _ shit _ without actually saying anything. 

“What shit things happened,” he asked. This time, Neil’s voice shook around the words.

Andrew listened. 

“Shit like I woke up sad. Shit like people important to me telling me that things that are important to me aren’t real. Shit like my scars  _ hurt  _ . Shit like my mom being right. Shit like I don’t know what about me  _ is  _ real because it’s all lies and fire. Shit like I can’t- I can’t  _ stop.” _

Andrew had screamed at the world for years without being heard. He’d screamed for help, he’d screamed at his family, he’d begged for so long without being listened to. He was overreacting, he was a psycho, he was a sociopath, he was a monster. It didn’t matter that he was telling the truth, it didn’t matter that he’d promised, it didn’t matter how he said anything because his words never had any weight the way knives did. 

But this… Neil understood on the good days what it meant when Andrew said  _ nothing _ and  _ hate _ because he listened to  _ everything _ . On good days. Today was not a good day and Andrew had gotten too used to finally, finally being understood. His words had never mattered before, not when he was serious and definitely not some throw away comment when he was annoyed. 

He said, “Open your eyes, Neil,” and wanted to be listened to. 

“No.”

He said, “Why not,” and wanted to be heard. 

“Because I think I might do something bad if I do.”

He said, “You won’t do anything bad,” and wanted to be believed.

“Yes I will.”

He said, “What you will do when you open your eyes will not be a bad thing,” and it was the truth. 

Neil’s face was crumpling, jaw shaking, cheeks pulling. He heard and listened and believed and opened his eyes.

Andrew said, “Neil. Look at me,” and it sounded like a plea. When Neil turned, his cheeks and chin were already wet with tears. Andrew tugged Neil’s hand free and pulled it into his lap to massage away the dents of concrete from his aching scars. When that was done, he held on a little longer just because. 

When the tears seemed to slow, Andrew tugged the blank paper and pen from his back pocket and flattened it out over his thigh. At the top he wrote  _ Neil Abram Josten _ and under that he put a 1. 

He knew Neil would make a stupid comment and told him exactly how dumb it was. He wrote  _ Fox _ because that was something bone deep and inescapable. Privately, he knew that would be on his own list as well, if he were to make one. 

Number 2 was  _ Top Exy Player _ because to Neil that was everything and it was also the truth. Andrew didn’t need to care about Exy to see the facts. 

“You think I’m one of the best Exy players?” Neil asked because  _ of course _ he would. 

“It doesn’t say that,” he argued even though that’s exactly what he’d meant. 

“... you think I’m a  _ top?”  _ Neil asked and Andrew felt one corner of his mouth twitch without his permission. Purposeful humor was new for Neil and one day he might even be funny. 

He wrote a 3 and paused to contemplate how impossible it was to define Neil with any written language. 

“It gets hard,” Neil tried to excuse for him and that was bullshit. Neil tried to say that running and math were traits to be proud of and Andrew sneered at him as he wrote  _ Hothead, Loudmouth, Instigator _ . His breathe didn’t catch when Neil almost laughed. 

“Tell me how you really feel. What about my  _ best _ traits?” 

“Those  _ are _ your best traits,” he said, because to him it felt obvious. They were what had caught Andrew’s attention again and again and again. Not the mystery of the mob and his peculiar past- those were just something for Andrew to play with. 

“They sound like annoyances.” 

“They are.”

“You like them,” Neil said in a tone that was far too smug. 

Andrew said, “They are  _ literally  _ the only reason we’re dating,” instead of  _ yes _ and he did so very intentionally. He was not capable of forgetting what Nicky had said or the implications that Neil ever believed his proclamations at face value. He even went so far as to write  _ Boyfriend _ for number 4. He over corrected himself with  _ 5\. Math NERD _ and then brought it back with  _ 6\. Demisexual _ . There. 

Except…

“You can’t write that.” 

His pen froze next to number 7. He wasn’t stupid.

“Allison doesn’t get to decide that for you,” he said because he wasn’t stupid but he also wasn’t going to make this easy. 

“No you can’t- number four.”

He looked at Neil. Part of him expected this, some sort of fucked up karma for all his denial. Of course. They weren’t even- he was owed the same feeling of rejection he’d imparted on Neil. He waited. 

“That- you can’t say that just because I- it doesn’t work if it’s just one sided. That’s not…”

What had Nicky said? Something about Neil’s delusion that Andrew only slept with him in some fucked up platonic way? Maybe in the beginning… no, even in the beginning it had never actually been like that. It had been selfishness and experimentation and familiar and comfort and desire but never platonic. 

_ One sided _ , Neil said.  _ One sided _ , as if he was really that fucking stupid. Andrew underlined number 4. 

Neil really was that stupid. He said, “I have feelings for you,” as if Andrew wasn’t aware. Like it was a dark, dirty secret. A confession. Something to fear. 

“Yeah.” 

“But you said…”

“Forget what I said.”

“You won’t.” No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t ever forget one second of today and sometimes he would so vividly  _ not forget it _ that he needed moments like these to cling to when avoiding and preventing weren’t options. 

“No. I won’t. So forget it enough for the both of us.” Andrew brough the pen back to the incomplete list. “ Number seven, dumbass. Number eight, pain in the ass. Number nine-”

“Two in a row. Something on your mind? Maybe we should put that down as my best feature.”

One day,  _ maybe _ , in the distant future,  _ years _ from now, Neil might be considered funny by  _ some _ . Today was not that day and Andrew was not that someone. He did not write funny for number 7. He wrote  _ Fucker _ because this was one of those moments he would cling to when his brain would not let him forget. Andrew held the pen up and away so that Neil had to press their bodies together to grab at it and he could use his free hand to wrap around Neil’s waist. Neither were actually putting any effort into the struggle and eventually they both settled into the embrace, list forgotten and squished between their thighs. 

Eventually, Andrew said, “I have them, too,” and he trusted Neil to hear and understand. 

“Yeah.” He did. 

The night was dark and cool and surprisingly quiet around them despite it being Friday night. Neil had his face pressed into the side of Andrew’s neck in a way he did when he was too tired to pay attention to his own affections. It was an act of comfort, though he was sure Neil didn’t know that’s what it was.

Andrew knew that despite the current calm there were too many unaddressed issues lurking below the surface. Neil’s normal hypervigilance and recent penchant for anxiety attacks were not surprise issues no matter how skilled he was at hiding them. They were getting worse in a way that was noticeable, and being noticeable was probably the one thing Neil fought against above all else.

Andrew stroked his thumb along the jut of Neil’s hip as he spoke in a monotone. “I want to make a deal.” 

Neil tensed like he was about to fling himself from the roof. Andrew held tighter on instinct as well as- perhaps maybe- an act of comfort. The reaction told Andrew that he was aware enough to guess where this was going. He probably knew exactly what Andrew was going to ask for. He asked anyway. 

“Go to therapy. I will even help you find one you are comfortable with.” 

“You say that like it’s something I  _ can  _ be comfortable with,” Neil said into his shoulder. He didn’t move to pull away but his posture was stiff and impersonal. It was like his eyes were closed all over again, only this time he could mask his avoidance as affection. Andrew let him, maybe he would listen if this position made him more agreeable. 

“Help me understand your aversion or take the deal, but don’t refuse a useful tool for stupid reasons.” 

“Isn’t it enough to just not like something without a reason? Can’t I just not like it?”

“You can. But you also can’t let that stop you from treating your mental health.”

The measured breathing was back. Thirteen second cycles. Neil pressed his face hard into Andrew’s collar bone as he counted and started to tremble. 

“Avoidance is often a symptom,” Andrew said. It was a fact and given as such and Neil gobbled that up like a comfort. He took a deeper breath and blew out down the collar of Andrew’s shirt. “Are you afraid of others knowing facts about you?” Facts, not things. Clinical and impersonal.

“No.”

“Are you afraid of what it might reveal?”

A pause. A breath. Thirteen seconds. 

“Whatever you learn about yourself is not something for your list, it is a manifestation of a decade of trauma. You would not write the flu on there just because you got sick.”

Thirteen. Twenty six. Thirty nine. Fifty two. 

“Denial doesn’t suit you. Pretending that this is not an issue or that it will go away on its own is irresponsible and inconsiderate.”

Thirteen. Twenty six. Thirty nine. Fifty two. Sixty five. Seventy eight. Ninety one. 

“Do we really need to have this conversation right now? Today of all days?” Neil asked, voice as measured as his breath. 

“Yes,” Andrew said.

“Why?”

“Because tomorrow your brain will remember this as not that bad, that what you felt was not extreme. You will forget the pain and go on trying to navigate serious issues without the skills you need until the next time you have a  _ bad day _ .”

And what would happen next time? Where would Neil go? When would he come back?  _ Would  _ he come back? It was not something Andrew was willing to risk. 

Neil rubbed his face into Andrew’s collar and began sliding his ankles back and forth. “What would you trade?” He asked.

Andrew could picture how the conversation would go if he gave the answer on the tip of his tongue-  _ Anything.  _ And then Neil would evade,  _ I don’t want anything _ . And then they would continue this exhausting dance.

So instead, Andrew fought the grit of his jaw and said, “My game.”

Neil’s head shot up so fast that the side of his head knocked into Andrew’s chin but he didn’t acknowledge it despite the glare Andrew shot him. He had obviously expected something else, maybe even the answer that Andrew almost gave instead. He expected vagueness and evasion and cloaked affection. He did not expect Andrew to give something concrete. 

“Are you saying… that if I go to therapy, you will put effort into Exy?” 

Andrew sighed so hard he was surprised his lungs didn’t collapse. Of fucking course it was Exy that flipped the switch. He wasn’t surprised but he was exasperated by the predictability. 

“Yes.”

“And you’ll… you’ll help me? Find someone that’s not Betsy?”

“Bee would be a place to start and she could recommend someone but she is not who you need and you will feel more comfortable talking with someone who is not involved with the foxes.”

Neil looked like he was about to argue that he would not be comfortable with anyone but thankfully held it. Andrew could tell that he also did not like the idea of having a real session with Bee. Tough. He could deal with it. 

They sat in silence for a while longer, Neil’s head sinking back to Andrew’s shoulder, Andrew’s arm around his waist. Neil’s ankles were rubbing together which sent their bodies rocking just slightly in tandem. Andrew had to admit that the habit was relaxing. He began rubbing his thumb along Neil’s hip again in a rhythm to match. 

On Neil’s inhale, Andrew knew the answer before it was spoken.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of small things that I try to convey and idk if I did but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> [Come find me on tumblr!](https://imperfectcourt.tumblr.com/)


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